


Desolate Dreamland

by ceruleanmilieu



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Twin Peaks References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleanmilieu/pseuds/ceruleanmilieu
Summary: Malaise in the desert. Mulder and Scully in an Oldsmobile. Seasons change.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21
Collections: X-Files Horror Fanfic Exchange (2020)





	Desolate Dreamland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sarie_Fairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarie_Fairy/gifts).



> Prompt: Blood curdling scream • Written for the 2020 Horror Exchange

A dull band of wildfire smoke lingered on the horizon, fading into the blue above it all. The vast Nevada desert, home to Dreamland and acres of sagebrush, was not a wasteland, according to local bumper stickers that adorned stop signs as well as F150s. Autumn’s usual markers were sparse in the west. Yet, the change in season brought a yellow flowering throughout the desolate hills and valleys. 

Scully drove the rented Oldsmobile north, away from the bright lights of the city. “I don’t know what possessed me,” she said. “Letting you drag me back here.”

“I thought we could kill two birds with one stone,” he said. “Plus, I owe you a shrimp cocktail and tickets to a floor show, Scully.” 

“Don’t,” she said. “Your last potential informat didn’t pan out. What makes you think that this guy isn’t going to be some meth cook out in the boonies?”

“It’s just a hunch. And, I’ve got to keep trying.”

“Wait, Mulder, what’s the second bird?” she asked. 

* * *

A galaxy of light illuminated the clear October night, and the haphazardly placed white tombstones stood like cartoon teeth. It was late, but that didn’t matter. The sheriff had already made his nightly patrol past the old cemetery. A certain rural charm that the small town of Goldfield exuded wasn’t lost on its visitors: mainly ghosthunters and gamblers on their way somewhere else.

The group of three locals standing among the astringent sage weren’t teens anymore. They had their diplomas and could buy beer legally. 

“Bobby said he’d beep me when his dad falls asleep, and then he can sneak out with the schnapps,” Sheryl said, standing with an 18-pack at her feet. She shivered in her borrowed sweatshirt and balled her fists up in the extra long sleeves. Her blonde hair was a beacon in the night. 

Kyle sat on a rock, rolling a joint, and Donna complained that it looked lumpy. He then pushed her loose, brown hair back and placed the finished joint behind her ear before gently kissing her lips. “I love it when you bitch and moan.”

Donna scoffed and watched with a raised eyebrow, as Kyle took a running jump over the low, weather-beaten picket fence that lined the grounds. “You dumbass. The gate is right there!”

The two girls walked over to the entrance, carting the beer with effort, as their friend did push-ups on an ornate concrete grave slab.

“Well, this is a blast from the past,” Sheryl said. “I think the last time I came here was for a seance in sophomore year.”

“Oh my God. Was that Peggy’s sweet sixteen? I heard she peed her pants, she was so scared.”

“Oh, it was definitely just the Pabst.”

They giggled, stepping over the stones lining the path.

* * *

Sitting in the passenger seat, Mulder watched the mountains on the horizon slowly grow closer, as the joshua trees speed by. He hadn’t said anything since the diner. They had stopped for a late dinner. And, over a burger and fries (his) and an egg white omelet (hers), the two had discussed the potential contact. 

Places had inert memory.  _ Don't you ever just want to stop? Get out of the damn car?  _ Her past words rolled in her mind, sticky and intrusive.  _ Settle down and live something approaching a normal life? _

He reached down and grabbed a styrofoam to-go box. “Fresh from the window sill, Scully. Apple pie, à la Mulder.”

Her eyes remained on the highway. 

“C’mon, I know it’s not on your diet, but apples are healthy. Keeps the doctor away…”

She smiled. “Didn’t think that one through?” 

He used the plastic fork to stab a small and stable piece. Leaning over the center console, he held the morsel up, and Scully took a bite. 

As she chewed, Mulder placed a hand on her thigh. “Can you let me know what’s wrong, Scully?”

“Nothing’s wrong. We’re going to a haunted clown motel to meet an eccentric cat trainer who has information about mysterious lights above the Nevada desert. Everything’s great.”

He tensed. “It’s not haunted. The clown motel is just an oddity. The haunted motel’s down the street.”

“I just don’t know why I thought anything would change,” she said. 

“I was thinking of everything that’s changed since we were last here,” he replied. 

“It’s just so hokey, Mulder.”

* * *

“Fuck yeah!” Kyle shouted, tossing the neon green can of Surge soda he’d shotgunned. “Beer me!”

“Shut the fuck up! You’re being so loud.” Donna reached down to grab a warm one and tossed it to him. 

He caught the lob, extending his arm like a football player. “This whole idea was Bobby’s, and he’s not even—”

_ Gone. _ It was a sudden departure. The lanky young man had vanished out of sight, and the can seemed to hang in the air for a short moment before dropping to the ground.

Coolly alarmed, Donna looked over at her remaining friend. “He’s gone? Disappeared.”

Sheryl was looking intently at her bright pink makeup compact. “He probably just ran somewhere to pee. He couldn’t have just vanished.” 

“Sheryl! I was just looking at him holding a Natty Light and he, like, blinked out. And...it fell.”

“This is crazy. You haven’t even started smoking yet. Let’s just go looking for him.” 

* * *

They whizzed past a road sign indicating that only 40 miles separated them from the town of Tonopah and the clown motel. The windshield had begun to fog, so Mulder flipped the defroster switch on. A slightly crooked sign denoted the lowered speed limit as they entered Goldfield.

“I always wonder what the people who live in these remote locations do.” Scully mused. “It’s so far from anything.”

“For work?”

“Work and everything else,” she replied. 

“I bet a lot of them are in mining. But there’s probably nothing to do for fun except drinking.”

“And cow-tipping…”

Mulder smiled. “How about we pull over, so I can introduce you to the second bird.”

Scully’s eyebrow raised. “Oh, you’re finally letting me in on this secret?”

“In due time.”

She slowed down and turned onto a rutted dirt road. The car bumped along at 5 mph until the road widened and she pulled over to the side. “Okay, we’re in the middle of nowhere. Now what?”

“Some of the darkest skies in the world, outside of the middle of the ocean, or maybe central Australia, are right here. I figured that we could climb on the hood and do a little stargazing because—”

“There’s a meteor shower?”

“The Draconid meteor shower. It’s not expected to be too heavy, but there’s no moon out and I’m feeling lucky tonight.”

He leaned over for a quick kiss before unbuckling his seatbelt and exiting the car. Then, he popped the trunk and opened his suitcase, grabbing his Navajo blanket and a couple of bottles of iced tea. “I know it’s a little chilly, but I thought you might like a beverage.”

Scully looked down at the bottle and read the label: “sweet.” She grasped his hand. “Mulder…”

“We’re not so good at this. But, I want to be what you need. It’s just that I like being in the car… with you,” he said.

She stood tall to reach his lips, kissing his chin and nuzzling his chest for warmth. “I do too, Mulder. Sometimes...it can be a little frustrating, but I want you to know that I appreciate this.”

He helped her climb onto the hood, her back resting on the windshield, and he placed the blanket over her. Joining her, he joked about denting the hood. 

“So, what’s your favorite part of the night sky?” he asked.

“I suppose I like the Pleiades,” she said, pointing up. “They’re such a gorgeous color. How about you?”

“Definitely, Alpha Centauri,” he said.

“The closest star to Earth. Are you planning a trip anytime soon, Mulder?”

“Not enough frequent flyer points, even with all of these jaunts to the west coast.”

* * *

Sheryl snapped her compact closed and stuffed it into her mini-backpack that served as a purse. “Kyle didn’t just disappear! Maybe he went home to grab a coat or something? I don’t know, but that’s just not possible.”

“So what the fuck happened then? I blinked for 30 seconds and he ran off?” Donna said, with wild eyes. “I saw the beer can fall!”

“This is just a trick. Or something. Bobby’s probably in on it, too!”

The two walked through the graveyard, Donna leading the way, screaming for Kyle to cut it out. They made their way from one side to another without results. A shooting star flashed overhead and just as Donna turned, she disappeared. The last moment of Donna, with her dark hair swinging as she twirled, hung in the air, seared in Sheryl’s memory but not her vision.

And Sheryl screamed. A blood-curdling scream: full-throated, scratchy and desperate. A lack of understanding and an abundance of adrenaline pumped through her veins. It didn’t waver. It didn’t cease. 

Mulder and Scully jolted up, hands reaching for guns and flashlights. The cry had come from the clear night. It was close. It was primal. They ran down the road, kicking up dirt and pebbles. Frantic and breathless, Mulder reached the edge of the graveyard and saw a figure standing alone. Illuminated by the golden hue of the flashlight, Sheryl’s dilated eyes looked empty and dark. 

Scully caught up to Mulder, who stood next to the now quiet girl at the edge of the abandoned cemetery. She swung her light around to survey the scene, looking for anyone, or anything, else. She glanced down. “Mulder, take a look at this one."

The chalky stone read: 

“UNKNOWN MAN 

DIED EATING LIBRARY PASTE 

JULY 14 1908.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> For Sarah, thank you for the wonderful prompt. I was super glad to get you! Heart emoji!
> 
> This was a fun write, and I'll admit the genre was a bit out-of-my-wheelhouse. (which, I think, I drug, kicking and screaming back into said wheelhouse.) The one who screams is named after/dedicated to eternal scream queen Sheryl Lee.


End file.
